


Chicago Dreamin'

by country13



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/country13/pseuds/country13
Summary: Ian Gallagher is working at Fiona's laundromat, discouraged with the direction his life is going after leaving Mickey at the Mexican border.  Then one day, while at work, he gets an unexpected visitor.





	Chicago Dreamin'

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun one shot. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

Chicago Dreamin’

            Ian Gallagher stood in the middle of South Side Suds, his sister Fiona’s laundromat on the South Side of Chicago, where he had been working for the past six months as a fluff and fold attendant.  When the fuck had this become his life?  He spent his days sorting through pieces of other people’s laundry while the pieces of his own life steadily fell apart.  Oh yeah, he remembered. He had left the love of his life, Mickey Milkovich at the Mexican border after he escaped from prison.  When he came back to Chicago, he had lost everything-his job as an EMT, his boyfriend Trevor, and the small amount of self-respect he had had left.          

When Ian had tried to go back to his EMT job, his boss informed him that he had been fired due to unexcused absences. That fucking hurt for several reasons.  Ian had worked his ass off to become an EMT, studying day and night for the barrage of tests you have to take to get certified.  He was determined he wasn’t going to be a dancer at the Fairy Tail for the rest of his life.  He needed something that gave him a purpose, a meaning to his life. Once Ian was certified, he began working and immediately fell in love with the job.  He loved the rush of adrenaline of it, the unpredictability of the job.  Plus he loved helping people and saving lives.  That never got old.  The hours were long and crazy, but the good certainly outweighed the bad.

On his application, he had not mentioned his bipolar disorder, and it was never an issue until an incident with a patient caused his supervisor to call Fiona, who had brought it to her attention.  He had to fight to keep his job since she now considered Ian to be untrustworthy not only because of his non-disclosure of his illness, but because of the illness itself.  But in the end, she decided to let him keep his job, to Ian’s elation.  He had worked too hard to get where he was and get his shit together to lose it because of his bipolar.  His disorder had already taken so much from him.  Ian didn’t want it to take his job that he loved so much as well. But ultimately, going off for several days with his fugitive ex-boyfriend was the final straw.  As much as he loved his job as an EMT, he loved Mickey more, so he had no regrets.

And then there was Trevor.  He and Ian had met each other about a year ago when Trevor began working in the neighborhood at a homeless shelter for gay teens. Ian had thought he was cute enough and Trevor invited him out to a club, so they went and had a good time.  After a couple dates, Trevor finally revealed to Ian that he was transgender.  Ian didn’t even know what transgender meant at the time.  Trevor went to great lengths to educate Ian.  Ian was trying to understand it all, going so far as to bottom for Trevor, which he had never done before, losing his gold star status in the process.  He didn’t really like it, to be honest.  But he was trying to accommodate Trevor’s needs, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t such a smart idea.  He should have been honest from the get go.

Trevor was a nice enough guy and he did some great work with the teens he helped, but he always made Ian feel like he couldn’t do anything right, no matter what he did.  In addition, he had one more glaringly obvious flaw.  He wasn’t Mickey.  Ian and Mickey had this connection, this bond that he had never been able to find with anyone else, no matter how hard he looked.  No one understood him the way Mickey did, no one cared about him like he did. When Ian returned from being with Mickey in Mexico, he admitted to Trevor where he had been, and the betrayal was too much for Trevor so he ended up breaking up with Ian.  Even though it sucked being dumped like that, he understood how Trevor felt and he didn’t blame him.  He was visibly and understandably hurt. 

But as much as he knew he had hurt and betrayed Trevor, he still didn’t regret going with Mickey, spending those few days with him, talking and fucking, fucking and talking. There were a lot of things Ian wished he’d said though.  When Mickey would get especially nostalgic and talk about old times, Ian would get pensively quiet while doing his own reflecting.  They had been through so much shit, overcome so many obstacles, that it was so unfair that they ended up here.  On the run headed to Mexico.  Couldn’t they have things go right for them for once? Sitting there with Mickey, Ian began to realize that he still had a chance, he could be better than this.  He wasn’t about this life anymore.  At the time he truly believed that, and he ultimately decided that he wasn’t going to go with Mickey across the border.

But that would turn out to be his one regret- not crossing over the border into Mexico with him.  He thought he was doing the right thing, coming back for his family, his EMT job, and his boyfriend.  Now all he had left was his family, who never even cared enough to notice he was ever gone. Everything he thought he had come back for, he had lost.  He figured that was the universe’s way of driving the point home that he had fucked up by not going with Mickey.  Now he was left to only wonder if he was okay, if he was eating, was he safe, getting enough sleep? Would Ian ever see him again? Ian felt a pang of guilt for having those thoughts.  He didn’t have the right to think of such things anymore.  If he was so worried about how Mickey was doing, he should have gone with him.  He could just hear Mickey saying that shit to him, and he would be right.

So, Ian accepted this as his penance, what he deserved.  Maybe he was destined to spend the rest of his life alone, with a shitty ass job and no one to love.  Ian was considering becoming a professional pity party planner, what with how good he was getting at it.  He knew he had no one to blame for anything but himself.  He was an adult who was responsible for his own actions. Mickey was never anything but good to Ian, always putting Ian’s needs before his own.  Ian was never that selfless.  If he was, he would have gone with Mickey to Mexico.  Ian knew that if the situations were reversed, Mickey would have gone with him, no questions asked and made sure he was okay. 

A small part of Ian thought about going back to dancing at the Fairy Tail.  Fuck knows the money was better.  But Ian also knew that the whole time he danced at that place, he was smack in the middle of a manic episode, so he surely did things and accepted behavior from patrons that he didn’t think his non-manic brain would ever put up with.  Therefore, as soon as Ian let his mind conjure up that idea, he immediately shut it down.  He was stabilized now with the right mix of meds and the last thing he needed was to go back to that kind of toxic environment.

 So here he was, sorting through other people’s dirty underwear. Yes, this was his life now, or lack thereof.  As he stood there, mindlessly pulling from the latest pile of laundry he was working on, and folding them neatly in a stack, Fiona came barreling in from the back at a breakneck speed.  “Ok, Ian, I’m out of here.  Will you turn off all the lights and lock up when you leave?”  She barely stopped long enough for his response.

“Sure thing, Fi,” Ian stated sadly, continuing to dutifully fold the laundry in front of him.

“You ok?”  Fiona asked.  This time she didn’t wait for an answer.  The door opened and then slammed behind her before he even looked up from his work to respond.

Yeah, sis, I’m just peachy,” Ian answered to himself.  “I’m just fine, don’t worry about me.  I’m gonna go home later and shoot shark piss up my nose and put my dick in the blender.” Fiona’s only concern would be the amount of blood he got in the kitchen.  _Ok, this was getting way too morbid, even for you,Ian_ , he thought. Ian continued with his silly monologue and the more he thought about the fact that nobody in his current world would give two shits if he did those things, the angrier he got.    But no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop this train of thought, feeling like nobody cared whatsoever what happened to him.

 As his anger continued to escalate, he started folding faster and faster, slamming shit down, deep in the middle of a good old fashioned hissy fit.  Hell, nobody was around, so why not? Before long, he was folding so fast and stacking shit so high, that the whole stack of laundry finally fell to the floor.  All the work he had done for the last fifteen minutes was spread out all around him in messy heaps. “Fuck!”

Ian bent down to retrieve his mess, steadily cursing the entire time.  “Fuck my life,” he mumbled, as he began picking up the articles of clothing.  He heard the bell above the front door chime as someone walked in.  “Sorry, we’re closed,” Ian called out, not even bothering to look up.  When he finally had the last of the clothes picked up and placed back on the folding table, he moved to stand back up. He saw from the corner of his eye, that whoever had walked in hadn’t left yet.  His patience was wearing thin.  “I said we’re………”

Ian froze. He couldn’t finish his sentence, having lost his ability to speak as he locked eyes with his customer. His whole body hummed as electricity shot through every nerve inside him.  A thin sheen of sweat began to cover his skin as his heartbeat sped up and his breathing became erratic. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his knees became weak, Ian unsure if they would hold him up much longer. He put his fingers to his eyes and wiped vigorously.  He tried again but the image in front of him still remained.  It couldn’t be. Okay, he had officially lost his mind.  Or his mind was really playing tricks on him.  Because if he didn’t know any better, it looked like Mickey fucking Milkovich was standing in the same room with him, fifty feet away.  He had just been thinking about him a lot today and this was just his imagination running away with him.  Yeah, that had to be it.  He almost had himself convinced, until finally, the man before him spoke.

“I really wish you wouldn’t put your dick in a blender, I kinda like it.” _What the fuck?_ Mickey was leaning against the wall at an angle with his upper back and shoulders against it and his hips and legs jutted out, hands in his pockets.  He sounded like Mickey.  Ian would know that voice anywhere. But he sure didn’t look like him.  First of all, he had blonde hair.  Blonde! Ian always loved the brunette hair with the blue eyes, but the blonde definitely worked for him.  He had on a white t-shirt and black leather jacket, designer jeans and shoes.  So un-Mickey.  But damn if he wasn’t sexy as fuck.  Especially with the way he was looking at Ian right now, like he could eat him alive.   And Ian would let him feast on him as much as he fucking wanted.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ian asked, clearly perplexed by the man’s presence as he walked slowly toward him until they were inches apart. 

Mickey put his hand up to Ian’s chest to stop him from advancing further.  Ian felt the burn of Mickey’s fingers through his shirt all the way to his skin.  The heat from this one simple touch was enough to make Ian go up in flames.  “Hey, hey.  Back off there, Firecrotch.”

Ian took a couple steps back.  “I’m sorry, Mickey.  I just had to get close enough to see if you were really real.  And you are.” He smiled.

“Of course I’m real.  What the fuck you think this is, some kind of Roseanne dream bullshit?”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Here, come sit down,” Ian said excitedly.  Ian grabbed two chairs for them, scraping them loudly across the floor. Ian noticed Mickey’s head turn toward the front door nervously.  “Oh, shit, let me lock the door and turn off the lights.” Ian went to the door, locked it and flipped the light switches.  When he turned, he saw Mickey visibly relax, the tension in his shoulders releasing as they slumped. He quickly made his way back to sit in the chair opposite the one Mickey had occupied and he let his hand sneakily brush past Mickey’s knee as he sat down.  No matter what Mickey said, he had to feel for himself that he was in fact real.  The way his luck had been going lately, he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance or speculation. If Mickey noticed his little gesture, he didn’t say anything about it.  Ian looked at Mickey expectantly.  “Before you say anything, you gotta explain this new look, Mick.  You look hot as fuck, man.  Jesus.”

Mickey smirked at Ian’s words. “Well I couldn’t come back to the South Side without a disguise, now could I?” He put his arms out in presentation.

Ian raked his eyes up and down Mickey’s body and gestured with his hand. “Well, this is a hell of a lot better than that fucking dress.” 

Mickey’s smile weakened a little, his eyes downcast.  Ian could see the shame all over his face.  Shit, Ian felt like such a dick.  “I’m sorry, Mick.  I shouldn’t have said that.”

Mickey shook his head.  “It’s okay, Gallagher.”

“But I gotta say,” Ian smiled seductively, “this look definitely works for you.” Ian reached out and ran his hands lightly through Mickey’s hair. “Damn, you look good as a blonde.”

“Alright, enough of that shit.” Mickey reached up to grab Ian’s hand and felt sparks ignite and shoot all the way through his body.  Goddamn, even after all this time, the electricity between them was palpable.  Mickey laced his fingers with Ian’s and looked down at their joined hands as he spoke. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Gallagher. You always look fucking good, though.  You don’t even have to try.”

Mickey looked up at Ian then and did his infamous eye fuck thing that always made Ian melt.  Ian sighed contentedly.  God, it felt so good to have Mickey here.  Just being in his presence made Ian calmer, more centered.  Sitting in the middle of this shitty laundromat, he felt like he was home. He would love to just sit and stare at this gorgeous man forever, but he needed some answers. “How the fuck did you get here, Mick?”

            Mickey sighed shakily.  He didn’t know where to begin.  One part of him didn’t want to be honest with Ian and admit just how much he had gone through to get here.  But the other part of him, the slightly bitter and deeply hurt part, wanted to tell Ian his whole sad tale of misadventures, hoping to make Ian feel guilt and shame for leaving him alone.  But he just couldn’t do that to Ian, no matter how much he had been hurt and how overwhelmingly scared he was, crossing that border alone.  He still loved Ian so fucking much that he couldn’t stomach seeing any of those painful emotions flit across his face.  It would break Mickey’s heart in two.  But he didn’t want to outright lie to him either. So, he opted for the partial truth.

“Well, after I made it to Mexico, I settled in a little beach town, got me a job tending bar and a little apartment.  It was rough at first, you know, being on my own, not knowing anybody, not knowing the fucking language.  But I’ve picked up on some of it, thanks to some of the folks at the bar.  Oh, and I go by Michael down there.  Michael Morgan.  Most of my friends call me Eminem, which I sorta fucking hate.  But hey, it’s whatever, right?”

“Oh God, don’t tell me that’s why you got the blonde hair?!” Ian screeched.  

Mickey looked at Ian like he had horns growing out of his head. “Of course not! What the hell’s wrong with you? Now, would you shut the fuck up so I can continue?” Mickey removed his hand from Ian’s in annoyance.  Dammit.  Ian felt immediately lonelier without the contact.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sorry.  That was stupid.  Go ahead.”  Ian tried to nonchalantly grab Mickey’s hand again.  When Mickey didn’t protest, he interlocked their fingers together again and smiled at the warmth he felt seeping from the man in front of him.

“So, one night I was working, and guess who walks up and sits down at the bar?”

Ian looked at Mickey, puzzled.  “Who?”

“Damon.  Remember him, the Mexican banger hitman motherfucker?” Ian’s eyebrows shot up as he nodded his understanding. “Well, I couldn’t fucking believe it.  And of course he wanted nothing to do with my ass, I mean who could blame him, right?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know, I can think of a lot of things to do with your ass,” Ian smirked.

Mickey just shook his head, biting his lip to keep from smiling.  God, he had missed this goofy motherfucker.  But he wasn’t going to give Ian that satisfaction.  Yet. “You are so fucking corny, man.  Would you let me finish, please? Dammit.” Mickey huffed, keeping up his charade of frustration.

“Okay, okay, Mick, I’m sorry.  I won’t say anything else.” Ian was just glad Mickey didn’t yank his hand away that time. Ian really had to get a hold of himself.  He was so giddy that Mickey was sitting here, right in front of him, in the flesh, that his brain had gone stupid.  He vowed right then to not say another word until Mickey was finished.

“So, anyway, like I was saying,” Mickey gave Ian a pointed look, “Damon wouldn’t even talk to me and started to get up and leave when he saw me but I talked him down and got him to at least let me apologize. Well, we started shooting the shit and he agreed to meet with me after my shift.  I didn’t want to talk about all that shit with all those people around.  So, we met up later on that night and I asked him about getting a coyote to sneak me across the border. It took a lot of convincing to get him to help me, but he eventually agreed.  Well, come to find out, that guy Jesus, that we met, is a cousin of his. So basically, he called in a favor to Jesus and he helped me sneak back into the States.” Mickey released Ian’s hand and looked down at himself, fanning out his leather jacket with his hands. “He came up with this getup too to help me get past border patrol. Those Mexicans know how to clean up apparently.”

Ian looked confused.  “So, just like that? Damon did this favor for you? What did you have to do for him in return?”

Mickey definitely wasn’t going there.  “Not much, just some free alcohol from the bar.  I paid for it.  Hey it was worth any amount of money I had to pay.  I missed your stupid face.” Mickey smiled. He wasn’t going to tell Ian just what all he actually had to do for Damon to get his help.  Luckily, Mickey telling Ian he missed him had distracted him enough that he didn’t question him further about it.

“So, what else have you been up to down there?”  Mickey looked in Ian’s green eyes, those same eyes he had dreamed about every night in Mexico, and thought about every day, wondering how he was doing.  “You seeing anybody down there?” Ian didn’t know why he asked that question.  Well, yes he did.  He still fucking loved this man, even though it wasn’t fair of him to ask about this.  Mickey had his own life now and Ian should want him to move on and be happy.  But of course, like always, Ian was only thinking of himself and selfishly wanted Mickey to pine away for him forever.  How fucked up was that? Just because that’s what Ian planned on doing, didn’t mean Mickey deserved that same fate. And he didn’t.  But still, thinking of him with somebody else absolutely killed him, and he tried to play it cool, be nonchalant about it.  The look on his face obviously gave him away because Mickey thumbed at his lip like he always did when he was nervous and didn’t know what to say.

“Uh, I’ve been hooking up with a guy I met at the bar down there.  He’s a nice guy.  It’s nothing serious,” he assured Ian.  He didn’t know why he felt the need to reassure Ian of anything.  Ian had been the one to leave him.  Mickey should feel good about moving on and being happy in his life.  But of course, like always, Mickey thought about Ian and how he would feel about Enrique. Enrique had had Mickey’s body, which Mickey had enjoyed immensely, but Ian would always have his heart. No matter how hard he tried, Ian occupied that space and there was no room for anything or anybody else.

 “ Okay, Mick.  I’m confused. It seems like everything is going good for you down there.   Why in the fuck would you risk it all to come back here?” Ian was selfish a lot of the time, but he certainly didn’t like the idea of Mickey coming back to the scene of the crime, so to speak. The Chicago police patrol this area like every building is a crack house or something.  Mickey knew that well enough.  It just didn’t make sense that he would risk his life to come back to the South Side, back to where his past would forever haunt him.

Mickey looked up at Ian sheepishly. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

Ian blushed at Mickey’s confession.  Ian didn’t deserve that after the way he had treated Mickey.  It just wasn’t fair that this beautiful man had been his and he had ruined both of their lives in one fell swoop that day on the steps of the Gallagher house when he foolishly broke up with him. Then suddenly, something occurred to him.  “How did you know I was working here?”

“I keep up with you through Mandy.  She told me about your EMT job.  And about Trevor. I’m sorry, Ian.”  He forgot that he had told Mandy about all that.  She had called him after his mom, Monica died soon after he got back from Mexico.  He then realized what Mickey had just said and jumped up out of his chair suddenly.  “Stop apologizing for shit, Mick! None of that was your fault! It was me! All fucking me! Me losing my job, losing my boyfriend, my fucked up life! It wasn’t you, ok?!”

Mickey was taken aback by Ian’s outburst.  He put his hands up in surrender as if that would protect Mickey from Ian’s words.  He got up and walked over to Ian and placed his hands gingerly on Ian’s shoulders that were moving up and down rapidly from Ian’s breath coming in short gasps.  “Calm down, Gallagher, ok? Just breathe slow, deep breaths.” As Ian’s breaths finally seemed to slow, Mickey let out his own breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Come sit back down, ok?”

Mickey guided Ian back to his chair, his hands still on the redhead’s shoulders.  After he sat down, Mickey resumed his place in the chair in front of him. He waited a beat to make sure Ian was calm again.  He was looking down at the floor, over at the wall, anywhere but at Mickey. Finally, their eyes met again.  Ian nodded. “I’m good.  I promise. And yes, before you ask, I’m taking my meds.”

Mickey hated to admit it, but that’s where his mind went first, seeing Ian get upset like he just did.  He didn’t want to ask, afraid that it would cause another outburst, so he was fucking relieved that Ian filled in that blank for him himself. “That’s good, Ian.  I’m glad to hear it.  You know I always worried about that.”

“I know that.  That’s why you are the only one who is allowed to ask me that without getting a foot up the ass. “ Mickey chuckled.  “You were the only one who cared whether I took them or not.”

“Ian…..” Mickey began.

“No, no no.  Fuck it, you listen.  There are a lot of things I didn’t say to you while we were on our way to Mexico.  A lot of things I didn’t say throughout our entire relationship that I should have. I know we’re over and done with, I realize that, okay? You have your life in Mexico, I have my life here, if you can call it that.  I want to tell you some things and then we are going to figure out how in the hell we are going to get you back to Mexico.”

“Ok.” That was all Mickey said before putting his arms out to Ian, signaling for him to continue.

“You told me that I was the only one who ever had your back.  No, Mick.  You were the only one who had mine.  You loved me, cared about me, showed concern for me when nobody else did.  You remember you asked me if I ever thought about you while you were in the joint?”

Mickey nodded slowly. The memory of their last night together was permanently burned into his brain.  He couldn’t forget it even if he wanted to.   “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I know all I said was,’A lot.’ But that was a lie. I thought about you every fucking day, Mick.  I missed you so fucking much and I didn’t come see you because I was ashamed.  The way I treated you that last jail visit? That wasn’t me.   I mean, it was me, but I had let my mom get in my damn head.  She had said that people who weren’t like us would never understand and never accept us for who we are, and I believed her. I can’t believe how stupid I was.  If I could take back that day, I would.  God knows I would do anything to take it back.  You didn’t deserve that, you didn’t deserve to be in that shithole in the first place. There are no excuses for the way I acted toward you.  I hope you can find it in you to forgive me one day, Mickey.  But I would surely understand if you didn’t.  You don’t owe me anything.” Ian’s eyes were brimming with tears now.  He never thought he would ever get this opportunity to tell Mickey how he truly felt and how sorry he was for everything.  It was like somebody up there gave him just this one little sliver of redemption and he was grateful. He waited with baited breath for Mickey’s response to everything Ian had just said.  He knew it was a lot to take in at one time.

Mickey’s head was down, his eyes focused on the dirty linoleum underneath his feet. He had wanted to hear those words from Ian for so long.  That’s not why he came back, honestly.  He just wanted to make sure Ian was taking care of himself.  But fuck if it didn’t feel good to have Ian say those things, and how many nights had Mickey dreamed of this moment, never imagining it would ever come to fruition.  It felt really fucking incredible.  Mickey was overwhelmed and speechless.

Mickey’s head came back up then, his blue eyes shiny with tears meeting Ian’s.  With their eyes locked on each other, Mickey gripped Ian’s chair firmly and pulled it so close their legs interlocked and their faces were inches apart.  Their chests began to heave as the electricity crackled between them, the dam of longing and desire threatening to finally break.  Deciding they had wasted enough time and he didn’t want to waste a second more, Ian grabbed the blonde by the back of his head and brought their lips together roughly, their mouths molding together, like finally finding the puzzle piece they’d been missing.  Their tongues intertwined as heat seared up Ian’s spine at the contact.  God, Mickey felt so good in his hands.  He ran his hands down his chest and splayed them out as he pushed his jacket off his shoulders.  Mickey shrugged out of it quickly, then wrapped his arms around Ian’s shoulders and ran his hands up into Ian’s red hair.  “God, I missed this red hair.  You know how hard it is to find a redhead in Mexico?”

“Shut up, Mick.” Ian chuckled lightly, his breathing getting faster with each touch of the other man’s hands. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Mickey complied eagerly as his lips came back down on Ian’s.  He deepened the kiss as his hand wrapped around the back of Ian’s head.  Ian grabbed the hem of Mickey’s white t-shirt and pulled it up and over Mickey’s head.  His hands roamed down the hot skin of Mickey’s chest, his abs, and his belly until they came around to his hips and he pulled him onto his lap.  Mickey came toward him with such force that they fell back and landed with a thud on the floor, Ian still in the chair with Mickey in his lap, who with the new position was now on top of him.  And they never broke their kiss. 

Mickey’s body loomed large above Ian’s and felt so fucking good against his, Ian felt like he could come just from this precious contact.  Mickey, mistaking the moan of pleasure Ian emitted as pain, began to raise himself up off of Ian, until the redhead threw his arms around him and clung to him. “No, please don’t go,” Ian pleaded desperately.

“Are you okay? Did the fall hurt you?” Mickey stroked Ian’s face lovingly and brushed his hair away from his face. 

“God no, I’m feeling no pain, I promise you.  Except for my painful erection.”

Mickey smiled wickedly.  “Oh, I can fix that pain.”

Ian hummed appreciatively.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Like no one else can.” Mickey kissed Ian again softly as he helped Ian out of the chair and tossed it across the room.

“Damn straight.” As he spoke, Mickey was already halfway down his body, it across the room, unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them.  He grabbed both his jeans and his boxers and shimmied them down Ian’s legs until his shoes and clothes were left in a heap behind them. Mickey crawled back up until his mouth was lined up with Ian’s cock.  “Goddamn, I missed this cock, Ian.” Mickey stared at it lasciviously, admiring its beauty, all thick and long and red.  His mouth open wide, he came down on the tip and sucked, flicking his tongue quickly back and forth across his slit. Mickey’s dreams had nothing on the real thing. Ian’s cock was a fucking masterpiece.  He continued to suck on the head, driving the redhead underneath him mad, if the noises he was making were any indication. 

“Oh fuck, Mick. Shit that feels good.” Ian’s head was lolled back and his eyelids were fluttering closed. “It’s been too fucking long.” Mickey’s hot mouth felt like heaven around Ian’s cock.  Ian remembered when Mickey used to tell him to ‘Fuck off’ when he asked Mickey to suck his cock.  One day, though, Mickey finally agreed, and not only did he enjoy it, he was damn good at it too.  He was a fucking natural.  Ian had taken advantage of those skills as often as he could too.  Without warning, Mickey swallowed Ian down.  Shit, Ian had forgotten that Mickey seemed to have no gag reflex and could take Ian’s cock like a pro.  Just like he could in his ass.  Fuck, Ian needed to quit thinking about that or he was going to come much sooner than either one of them wanted him to.

Mickey hummed as he bobbed up and down, the sound traveling through Ian’s entire body.  Ian removed his shirt, trying not to interrupt what Mickey was doing.  He didn’t.  Mickey kept sucking like nothing happened. Fuck, what this mouth could do to him.  He was right, he did what nobody else could.  He drove Ian crazy in all the best possible ways. He ran his hands through Mickey’s blonde tresses and tugged, fascinated by the blonde hair slipping through his fingers instead of brunette.

Mickey grabbed Ian’s balls and played with them lightly then placed his other hand around Ian’s girth and stroked him hard and fast.  Ian didn’t know how much more he could take.  “Come here, babe.” Mickey stopped his stroking and crawled further up Ian’s body like he asked. He kissed Ian feverishly their tongues battling for dominance as Ian tasted himself on the other man’s tongue.  As they kissed, Ian began undoing Mickey’s jeans and pushing his pants and boxer briefs down eagerly.  He grabbed Mickey by his hips roughly, digging his fingers in either side, while pulling him up toward him, grabbing handfuls of that sexy ass as Mickey realized what he wanted and pulled himself up on his own.  That ability to communicate without talking they still hadn’t lost.   “Give me that cock.”

Mickey lined his cock up to Ian’s mouth.  “Oh, sweet Jesus, Ian,” Mickey purred as Ian’s mouth came around his cock, hot and wet. He fervently sucked Mickey down until he could feel his head hitting the back of his throat.  Mickey couldn’t stay still and soon he was rocking into Ian’s mouth, in long strokes.  He was spurred on when Ian’s hands came around to his ass and set a frantic pace. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” Ian sucked on Mickey’s cock a few more times, leaving Mickey a moaning mess.  Ian loved hearing those sounds from Mickey.  They were like a telegraph to Ian’s soul.

“Fuck, Mick.  I’ve got to have you.”  Mickey immediately stood up, ready for whatever Ian wanted to give him.  Ian stood up and kissed Mickey breathless.  How did he ever live without those lips? “Come over here.” Mickey watched as Ian walked over to one of the washing machines.  What the fuck? Mickey eyed him quizzically, then decided, fuck it, he was game for whatever the redhead had in mind. “Lean over the top of this washer.” Mickey complied.  “Shit, hold on a minute.” Ian ran to the back of the store and disappeared into an office.

Ian knew he was probably shit out of luck because why in the fuck would there be any lube or condoms in this office?  He searched frantically through desk drawers anyway. The universe was just not going to be that kind to him.  It had already given him Mickey even if only for a few minutes, no way he would get that lucky again. Then he vaguely remembered that Lip had worked there for a few months while he went to rehab for alcohol.  Miraculously in the bottom drawer of the desk, he found exactly what he was looking for.  “HOT DAMN!”  Ian ran back out to the main floor, Mickey now leaning against the washer, his arms folded across his chest.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey looked less than amused.

Ian held up what was in his hand, condoms and lube, and Mickey nodded in understanding. You good?” Ian looked down at Mickey’s dick still standing at attention. “I guess so.” Ian raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

“Just shut the fuck up and get on me, Firecrotch.”

Ian turned Mickey around and put him back in his previous position, lying across the washer. Ian got down on his knees, to Mickey’s surprise, and spread his ass cheeks wide with his hands and slipped his tongue inside Mickey.  “Oh, shit, shit, shit, Ian.” God, Ian was so good at that.  Mickey had taken awhile to come around to the idea of Ian eating him out, but once he did, fuck, he loved it and got pissed at himself for waiting so long to let Ian do it.

Ian grabbed Mickey around his hips and used his arms to pull Mickey closer to him and fuck in and out of him with his tongue.  “God, Mickey, you taste so good.  I have dreamed about this ass.” Mickey groaned and gripped the sides of the washing machine, holding on tightly as he fell apart from Ian lips kissing and sucking one ass cheek, then moving to his hole and licking him voraciously with his tongue before moving over to the other ass cheek and repeating the kissing and sucking there. 

“Fuck, Ian, that feels so fucking good.” After several moments, Ian stood up and grabbed the lube and popped the top. Ian slicked up one finger and slowly breached Mickey’s waiting hole.  “Mmm, so tight, Mick.”

Mickey moaned at the intrusion, loving the feel of that long finger inside him, imagining how even better his cock was going to feel.  Ian added another slicked up finger and circled the inside of Mickey’s walls stretching him as much as he could.  “I’m good. Let’s go.”

“You sure?” Ian asked, afraid he was going to hurt him.

“I’m sure, man,” Mickey said desperately.  Ian rolled on a condom and reached beyond Mickey’s head and turned the knob on the washer to the spin cycle.  The whole machine started to shake violently and loudly, startling Mickey in the process.  “What the fuck?”

“Just wait.  I want to try something.” 

Ian slowly entered Mickey’s puckered hole, but he didn’t have to do much because the machine did all the work for him, shimmying his body and allowing his cock to stretch Mickey out until he was fully seated. 

“FUCK, IAN!” Mickey screamed. _Bingo._

Ian hugged Mickey around his waist brought his chest to Mickey’s back while his cock was buried deeply inside him, as far as it would go.  The washer rocked back and forth, causing Ian’s cock to rock in and out in short stabs to Mickey’s prostate.  The feeling was fucking fantastic.  Mickey’s warm heat surrounding Ian’s cock and pulsing with each piston to Mickey’s prostate made Ian see stars.  “Oh, God, Mick.  You feel amazing on my cock.” Ian suddenly realized it had been years since he and Mickey had been like this, given that the last few months of their relationship, Ian couldn’t even get it up due to the effects of his meds.  It had been years, but still felt like yesterday.  It felt brand new, but comfortably familiar.  They still had this indescribable heat, this amazing connection between them that had never waned, no matter how much time had passed.  Ian figured it would always be there, even when he was still here and Mickey was back in Mexico.  No matter who they ended up with, they would always have this.  This thing that they would never find with anyone else.

Mickey was rendered speechless, the motion of the washer and the feel of Ian’s huge cock pounding in and out of him almost driving him mad. He pushed back on Ian’s cock, needing more, wanting all of him, never getting enough.  “Oh, holy fucking Christ, Ian.” Mickey growled with each hit to his prostate, He wasn’t going to last much longer.  “I’m gonna fucking come, Ian.” Ian reached around and began stroking Mickey fiercely.   A few strokes later and Mickey was coming all over Ian’s hand, shouting in pleasure at his release. “Ian!”

Ian continued to fuck into Mickey, holding his body against his own, riding out the waves of pleasure as he finally came, shooting into the condom, yelling incoherently. He laid back down on Mickey’s back as their chests heaved collectively and they both struggled to catch their breaths.  “I have never,” Mickey began, having to stop to catch his breath, “had sex on a washing machine.”

Ian laughed through his huffs of breath.  “Me neither.  But goddamn, that was good.”

“Yeah, I would definitely recommend it,” Mickey sighed. Ian rose up off of Mickey’s back, his sweat mixing with the sweat from Ian’s chest.  It was a heady combination.  They locked eyes and words were exchanged, even though no words were said.  They didn’t need to be.  Everything they needed to say and everything they felt could be found in those eyes that looked longingly at each other.

Ian reached down and kissed Mickey sweetly on his lips, then his cheeks, then his forehead. He grabbed Mickey’ s head in his hands and kissed him again, this time more passionately, telling  Mickey with his lips what he was afraid his eyes couldn’t convey. He didn’t think this man would ever know how much he was loved. He decided in that instant that Mickey needed to hear the words.  Mickey always grew up thinking he wasn’t capable of being loved.  Mickey had told him that on more than one occasion.  Well, by damn, Ian was going to make sure that Mickey knew he was in fact very much loved.  “I just want you to know, Mick, that I love you very much.  I’ve always loved you, even from the very first time you came into the Kash and Grab and stole that food. I knew it then, but I didn’t know quite how much I would love you.  I know I haven’t always shown it, but I didn’t want you to leave again without knowing just how much you mean to me and always will.”

Mickey put his hands on either side of Ian’s neck and answered his kiss with his own equally passionate one. Mickey loved this man so much it hurt.  It physically and emotionally hurt.  But he was so worth the pain. Mickey didn’t know if they would ever see each other again after this, so he wanted Ian to know as well just how strongly he felt for him.  “Ian, I love you too, so fucking much.  And I loved you when I first saw you at the Kash and Grab.  Remember when I said I ‘forgot the dip?’ Yeah, that was just my way of getting another look at you, Firecrotch. The feelings I had for you scared the shit out of me.  But you pushed me to accept who I was and love myself and made me a better and much happier man because of it. I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I will always be grateful to you.  You are my soulmate, Ian.”

They hugged each other tightly and cried on each other’s shoulders, their tears mixing with their sweat.  They didn’t care.  All they knew was that this was probably the last time they would be together like this and they were going to cherish it together. They stayed like that for a while, until Mickey heard what he thought was a soft snore.  _What the fuck?_

Mickey grabbed Ian’s head pulled it up away from his shoulder so he could look at him.  Sure enough, the fucker was asleep.

 “Ian! Ian! Wake up!’ Ian sat straight up in his bed, his alarm clock blaring at him from the nightstand.  He reached over blindly to turn it off. “Wake up, brother. Time to go to work! The Mat opens in an hour, get your lazy ass up!” He looked up groggily to see Fiona walking away, a basket of laundry in her hands.

Fiona? What the fuck was she doing at the laundromat?  Shit, they were naked!  Ian looked down at his body covered up in a tank top and pajama pants.  Where was Mickey? Ian looked around frantically, searching for his blonde lover. Mickey wasn’t there. And Ian was in his own bedroom. Ian shook his head, hoping that would help him understand what the fuck was going on. And then, realization  slowly crept in on him.  Fuck, it had all been a dream.  Goddamn son of a bitch.  Ian was pissed beyond belief.  The best day of his life had all been a motherfucking dream.  He didn’t remember ever being so angry.  All he wanted to do was go back to sleep and feel Mickey’s arms around him again.  He laid back down on his pillows, praying for sleep to find him again and pull him back down into his beautiful dream.  Maybe that’s why they were called dreams. They were too perfect to be real.  No, no no.  He was going to make it a reality if it was the last thing he did. 

But instead of Mickey coming to him, he was going to go to Mickey.  He was going to Mexico to find him.  He had let that man go one too many times.  He wasn’t doing it again.  He didn’t care what it took, he was going to find him.  It’s time Ian put in some work in their relationship.  Mickey had done enough.  Ian would fight for his man and do whatever he needed to do.  Ian knew for the first time in his heart that he had made the right decision.  He had thought that leaving Mickey at the border was the right decision.  But was he ever wrong.  Mickey was all Ian would ever need.  He didn’t need a job.  Well, he did, but not at the expense of being with Mickey.  Mickey was all he really needed.  That dream had made him finally realize that, so he couldn’t be too mad about it. 

Ian jumped up, changed clothes, and packed some stuff in a duffel bag.  He still had his fake passport he had gotten from Mickey when they were headed down to Mexico.  He could use that.  Meds.  He grabbed his meds.  He would call his doctor and make arrangements with a doctor down there to get more when he needed it.  Ok, that’s all he was concerned about at the moment.  Everything else would just take care of itself later.  He just needed to get to Mickey. As long as he had Mickey, he knew everything was going to be alright.   He ran down the stairs of the Gallagher house, thankfully missing Fiona on the way.  He quietly shut the front door behind him as he headed toward the El, running as fast as his long legs would carry him.  He was on a mission to make his dream come true.

 


End file.
